


small town rumors.

by falconeggs



Series: open secrets. [1]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Canon Compliant, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, Historical Name Dropping, M/M, but it’s all very light, i know just trust me, references to murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 16:56:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20820668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falconeggs/pseuds/falconeggs
Summary: “They own the town,” Ray had explained. “They lost everything a few years back due to a crooked business manager scamming them out of hundreds of millions of dollars. They live at the motel at the end of the road. They’re vampires.”He’d said that last part so casually, and then moved onto the woman who owned the motel, and then her entire family, that Patrick wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard Ray correctly.ORThe AU where everything is the same, except the Roses are vampires.





	small town rumors.

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t have to explain myself for this. I have no explaination to give. I just want you to read it and, hopefully, enjoy it. If there are any mistakes, I apologize, I did my best to edit. If anything doesn’t make sense, or if you wanna hang, I’m @focksii on tumblr. Enjoy!

Within the first few hours of Patrick arriving in this strange town and accepting a job at Ray Butani’s office, it felt like he was very well acquainted with the townspeople, though he’d only met Ray, thus far. While everyone sounded interesting in their own right, none piqued Patrick’s interest quite like the Rose family had.

“They own the town,” Ray had explained. “They lost everything a few years back due to a crooked business manager scamming them out of hundreds of millions of dollars. They live at the motel at the end of the road. They’re vampires.”

He’d said that last part so casually, and then moved onto the woman who owned the motel, and then her entire family, that Patrick wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard Ray correctly. But, later in the day, at the singular cafe in town, it was said again, by the waitress, and by the town’s mechanic. The next day, when he met the mayor and his wife, they said the same thing about the Roses. Patrick knew, going in, that small town gossip can be bizarre, but calling people vampires just because they’re different seems extremely mean. None of these townspeople seem mean, either. Every time someone says that the Rose family are vampires, they don’t whisper it in a gossipy way. It’s just stated as a fact.

With that in mind, he knows David Rose will be here soon for a meeting with Ray about incorporation, which actually means David’s meeting is with Patrick. He’s already decided not to listen to the town’s very odd factoid about the Roses by the time Ray calls his name, far too loudly, as he’s just in the other room. He abandons his old teabag in the garbage and exits the kitchen.

“B-13,” Ray makes him aware with a warm smile, gesturing to the man beside him.

The man is striking, to say the least. He’s got nice hair, and a sweatshirt on that screams ‘expensive’. His eyes are dark, but bright and animated, just below a defined brow. His cheekbones are unbelievably high, a trait Patrick wouldn’t normally take notice of, but Patrick is looking for anything that would make him a vampire. Not that high cheekbones have anything to do with vampires. From tan skin to sparkling eyes, Patrick gets no evidence of a Nosferatu reference from David Rose’s features. Maybe he could be a model, but a vampire is a stretch. The only thing that is vaguely referential to being a vampire is David’s black-on-black outfit.

“This is for you,” David says as Ray walks away, handing Patrick his number.

“Thanks,” Patrick chuckles, taking the number, then extending his hand. “I’m Patrick.”

“David,” he introduces himself, taking Patrick’s hand to shake it. It doesn’t feel cold or hard, like an actual vampire’s might. Then again, there’s no such thing as vampires. The handshake is as firm as David’s hand is soft, which is remarkably so.

“David Rose,” Patrick nods, as friendly as he can manage. “You bought the General Store.”

David holds up a finger. “Leased,” he corrects, his face twisting up in a way that tickles Patrick, for some reason. “Leased the General Store, yeah.”

“Still, a pretty big deal,” Patrick shrugs.

“Is it?” David grimaces.

“Yeah, it is, yeah,” Patrick nods with a grin, then waves his hand over his desk. “You wanna have a seat?” David takes the direction and sits down. Patrick takes the two me to ignore the photo shoot Ray is conducting. “So, why don’t we start with the name of the business?”

“Oh, I’m oscillating between two names at the moment,” David jumps in, “so if we could just leave that one blank for right now, that would be great.”

No one has ever said anything like that to Patrick before. Again, and so quickly, too, Patrick finds himself amused and baffled by this man. “Sure,” he agrees, with a bob of his head. “Sure. Give you more time to-. Oscillate.”

Maybe David Rose isn’t a vampire, but he is very interesting, all the same.

-

The voicemails tick neither the pro nor con boxes on the vampire checklist, but Patrick cannot stop listening to them. They’re equal parts insane and endearing. All it does is make Patrick even more intrigued than he’d been in the first place.

He tells himself he listened to all seven of the voicemails three times to get the information for the incorporation paperwork. It doesn’t matter that Patrick probably wouldn’t fill out these papers for anyone else, he can pointedly ignore that fact for now. It’s too good to not piece together. The idea for David’s business is a blend of creative, community-oriented, and potentially profitable that Patrick dreamed of in the early days of business school.

He doesn’t really have any rationalization for replaying his first voicemail two more times after David came back to his office.

-

The look of Rose Apothecary, though it’s not even open yet, definitely doesn’t fit in with the idea that David and the rest of his family are vampires. Large, glass windows that let in the bright sun, and cream walls to enhance the sunshine are not what Patrick expected, but he definitely likes the look of it. It’s both refined and inviting, and Patrick is pleasantly surprised by that as he walks in.

He’s only supposed to be dropping off the business license, which he’s actually supposed to mail out, but small towns are probably used to a personal touch. He ends up being volunteered to help out, by David’s sister, but that works for Patrick. Frankly, he was planning on offering a hand anyway, especially after he walked in and saw how many boxes are stacked up around the store. Patrick was drawn here, and he’s happy to take the time to figure out why.

Spending the day with David and Alexis doesn’t prove or disprove the vampire rumor. They’re both tan, and refuse to lift anything, but Alexis references a Russian Czar by first name, which is, admittedly, suspicious. They’re both far more interesting than Patrick anticipated, which only makes him want to know more. Their bickering is endearing, and their love for one another is obvious, even though neither would ever accept that. Patrick thinks it’s sweet.

He thinks it’s all sweet. He thinks the decor, and the idea, and the bickering, and everything is sweet. He thinks David is sweet, even if he knows that David would grimace at the very concept of Patrick finding him to be sweet.

That night, staring up at the ceiling from the double bed in Ray’s spare bedroom, Patrick decides he wants to be a part of it. He thinks about the local products, and the potential mark ups, and not at all about how even David’s stubble is, or the dimples hidden just beneath the stubble. He quietly comes to the realization that he should be thinking so much about David’s beautiful sister, but he’s fixated on David’s silver rings, and not Alexis’ necklace with the ‘A’ on it. Patrick imagines how the rings might feel against his skin. He hasn’t fantasized about a guy since he was thirteen, and it all comes flooding back.

He’s not totally sure what’s scariest, that he wants to go into business with someone, that he wants to kiss the stubbled lips of his prospective business partner, or that said partner is rumored to be a vampire. He shoves that second option down, just for now, and looks up local grants for businesses, foregoing sleep for the most interesting business venture Patrick’s seen in a long time.

-

Because he’s an idiot, Patrick had been under the impression that his crush would dissipate as he worked alongside David. He was sorely wrong, as his crush has evolved, past a ‘thing’, beyond ‘affection’, and straight into the infatuation zone. He’s got it bad for David. Anything David asks, he does, without any hesitation at all. He comes in early, and budgets for weird expenses, and happily learns about all the products and vendors. He does it without complaint, because he knows it makes David’s life easier, because David smiles at him every time he agrees. Patrick enjoys it all, he relishes in their time together, setting up their little store.

They’re getting dangerously close to opening, though. As nice as it’s been, just the two of them, they’re eventually going to have to open their doors to the public. They don’t have any concrete plans for a grand opening just yet, but Patrick can practically taste the customers, they’re so close.

“So, I was thinking,” he says, after an hour of putting Rose Apothecary labels on moisturizer. Every fifth or sixth label, Patrick’s hand brushes against David’s soft, warm one, and Patrick wishes he had the nerve to ask him out.

“Hm?” David murmurs, glancing up at Patrick with a soft, barely-there smile.

“What if we opened this week?” He prompts. “Like, this Friday?”

David’s soft smile quickly drops. Patrick has already come to realize that he adores how expressive David is. “Uh, do you think that’s a good idea?” He squeaks, his eyes squeezing shut as he wags his head in uncertainty. “Friday-. That seems very soon.”

“Yeah,” Patrick smiles, nodding along. “I think we’ll be ready by then. I mean, if we want to eventually see a profit, we’re going to have to open soon. I think Friday is perfect.”

“Mhmm, right,” David nods frantically, his eyes still tightly closed. “Friday. Mhmm. It’s just-. I don’t know-.”

“David,” Patrick steps in, so David doesn’t have an aneurysm while he processes the concept of Friday. “We’re gonna be fine. We have a ton of vendors and a lot of community interest. I think we’re ready for this.” David looks at Patrick, like he wants to trust him. That’s all Patrick wants. “What do you say?”

David tucks his lips between his teeth and worries at a ring on his right hand. “I, uh,” he sighs, after a moment. “I’m probably going to need to take a day, or two. Before-. You know. We open.”

“Wh- Why?” Patrick stammers, in confusion.

“Uh, well,” David stammers, trying to look anywhere but at Patrick. “If we’re going to have a bunch of people here, I should probably, um, hunt? Beforehand. So I don’t literally kill our customer base. I haven’t gone in a while. I’ve kinda been-. Focused here? So I think I should, um-. Yeah, go.”

Patrick is baffled for a moment or two. “Huh?” He articulates, intelligently. David Rose? Hunting? He can’t really imagine David wearing anything but designer sweaters in varying shades of black, nonetheless camo hunting gear. It’s very strange to imagine him with a hunting rifle or a compound bow. “Hunt? For what? Like, deer?” Is it even deer hunting season?

“H-What?” David stammers. He looks extremely caught off guard by Patrick’s comments. He stares at Patrick for an extended moment, then begins to shake his head. “No, no. I know you know. No, you have to know. You worked for Ray, for Christ’s sake, and that man couldn’t keep anything quiet if he were literally paid to do it. No one in this town can, but especially him.”

“What are you talking about?” Patrick breathes, having lost his footing somewhere in this seemingly one-sided conversation.

“You honestly don’t know?” David squeaks, his face tightening and his shoulders reaching his ears. “Oh, fuck, this is definitely something you should know if we’re going into business together. Fuck, I just assumed-!”

Finally something clicks, some light in Patrick’s mind turns on. “Wait, wait,” Patrick waves a hand to cut David off. “That’s-? That whole thing, that’s just a weird, small town rumor.”

“What’s a weird, small town rumor?” David repeats, almost timidly, his stress obvious.

“About you and your family,” Patrick says. “About you being vampires.” They stare at each other for a beat or two. “Right?”

“Funny thing about small town rumors,” David mumbles, looking away from Patrick and down to the moisturizers they’d been working on.

It takes a few moments for it to sink in. “That’s true?” He gasps, his surprise hitting him like a tidal wave. “Y-you and your family are-?”

“Vampires, yeah,” David confirms, with a sharp succession of nods. “Not just townie gossip.”

Patrick’s mouth hangs open in surprise, trying to reconnect his brain. Everything he’s learned about David in the almost two months they’d known each other indicated that this weird thing wasn’t true. “You need to go hunting so you don’t literally kill our customer base,” he repeats what David said a few moments ago.

“I’m not-!” David yelps, then takes a breath. “I’m not going to hurt you. Or anyone else. I’ve had myself under control for a long time now, but I’d rather not take any chances. Especially on our opening day. You know, after I haven’t hunted in over two months.”

“That doesn’t seem healthy,” Patrick mumbles, half shell-shocked from the news.

David looks like he wants to laugh. “Yeah, well, neither does being actually dead for as long as I’ve been, but here we are,” he sighs, sagging.

“Oh, my god,” Patrick breathes, running his hands over his face. “Oh my god, you’re actually a vampire.”

“I honestly thought you knew,” David says, by way of apology. “I absolutely understand if you want to run. That’s a very normal reaction, probably.”

Patrick should want to run, but he doesn’t. His mind is vibrating, and his heart is pounding, but he doesn’t want to run. “It’s okay,” he sighs, shaking himself out. “I mean, it’s my fault I didn’t believe anyone. If everyone says the same thing like it’s a fact, then it’s probably not just gossip.”

“Wh- what do you mean, everyone?” David stammers, his face tightening all over again.

“Ray said it first,” Patrick recalls. “Then Twyla, then Bob and Gwen. And then Roland and Jocelyn said it, too. And that was the first twenty four hours in town.”

David frowns, his eyes closing with a heavy sigh. “Everyone in town told you me and my family were vampires on the first day you’re in town, and you just chose not to believe them?” David recaps, opening his eyes to look at Patrick. In turn, Patrick nods, slightly. There’s a few moments of silence. “That’s really nice.”

“What?” Patrick barks, his surprise escalating.

“I said that it’s nice,” David repeats, slightly louder. “Most people hear about it and ask us if we can turn into bats, or if we sleep in coffins, and you just ignored it and went into business with me. That’s nice.”

“Can you?” Patrick asks, his voice squeaking. He didn’t mean to ask, but his own curiosity got the better of him.

“Can I, what?” David repeats.

“Turn into a bat?” David gives Patrick a withering look. ”No, yeah, of course not, it felt silly when it came out.”

“I don’t sleep in a coffin, either,” David shutters. “Obviously, I can go out in the day. I’m a big fan of garlic. Almost all of it is just stupid myths, made up to try and make us look weaker.”

“But you’re not weaker,” Patrick realizes. “You’re a vampire. And I was moving around all those boxes because-?”

“Look,” David huffs. “Just because I could probably bench the building does not mean I am at all interested in manual labor. I’m too ancient to lift boxes for myself.”

Patrick can’t help it, he falls back into his own amusement. “And, what, I’m your human lackey you keep around to lift things?” He teases, gently.

For a moment, David looks a little shocked, jerking backwards. “No, you’re my human lackey I keep around because I don’t understand taxes,” he teases right back, and it floods warmth through Patrick’s entire body.

“I’m not gonna run,” Patrick promises, softly. David smiles at him, a small, half-smile that softens every single one of his supernaturally chiseled features. Is it because he’s a vampire, that his face is so angular, or was he born like that? “But, uh, you probably should. So you don’t literally kill our customer base.”

David chuckles, but humorlessly. “Thank you,” he whispers, so softly that Patrick almost doesn’t hear him. Patrick smiles a little, and nods. David puts down what he’s doing and goes behind the counter, grabbing his bag. “Um, I think I’m gonna go. You know. Get out of town for a couple of days.”

“Out of town?” Patrick repeats, definitely not watching the way David bends for his bag.

“Hunting nearby is sort of like eating all of your meals in a public bathroom,” David explains, his nose wrinkling. “So, we tend to travel for meals.”

“Wh- where are you going to go?” He asks, as conversationally as he can manage.

David shrugs as he turns to face Patrick. “Not sure,” he sighs. “Probably some nature preserve where only crazy survivalists go. Maybe find a max security prison or, like, a spin class for their instructor.”

Patrick chuckles, looking down at the work he’s forgotten he’s supposed to do. “Right, well, good luck with that,” he says, glancing back up at David. “Are you going to go by yourself?”

David sighs as he contemplates his answer. “Probably,” He says. “Um. Usually I go alone. Sometimes Alexis comes with me, but. You know, she has school. She’s very serious about that these days, and I’m not gonna ask her to come with me. You know that she’s almost done? I think she graduates soon.”

Patrick smiles at that. “I guess that makes a little more sense,” he nods, then hesitates. “Do you have a diploma?”

“I’m going hunting now!” David bids farewell, stomping across the floor. “You’re literally the only person I trust to not burn down my store.” He flings open the door, and Patrick thinks it’s missing a bell. “See you in a few days!” The door closes behind David, and Patrick gets to watch through the windows as he scurries away, towards the motel.

-

David is gone for a whole day, and returns at two in the afternoon, the day after. He looks better, if Patrick can fathom such a thing. He can’t exactly place a finger on why he looks better. He seems like he has more energy, and his skin looks like it’s glowing.

“Hey,” Patrick greets, happy to see him.

“Hi,” David breathes as he closes the door behind him. “Wow, it looks like you’ve had a productive two days.”

Patrick chuckles as he looks around at all the work he’s done. “Yeah,” he agrees, “I wanted to make sure I got as much done as I could. I don’t even know what time I left here last night.”

“I don’t pay you hourly, right?” David smirks, just barely, one perfect brow arching.

“No, I pay myself a salary,” Patrick teases right back.

“Oh, a salary,” David repeats, his smirk deepening.

“How was your hunt?” Patrick asks. The entire time he’s been arranging products and emptying boxes, Patrick had been thinking about the vampire situation. He had an endless list of questions, but he’s not afraid. He figures, if David wanted to hurt him, he probably would have done so by now. Patrick wants to understand this, and he doesn’t want to be afraid, so he’s trying to be as open-minded as he can.

David looks surprised by Patrick’s question. “Yeah, fine,” he stammers. “It was good. Also very productive.”

“Did you go anywhere interesting?” Patrick asks, conversationally, and genuinely interested in whatever David tells him.

David glances away. “I went to northern rural Ontario,” he sighs. “So, obviously, it was like Mehmed Gazi’s opium den, but, like, a hundred times more fun.”

Patrick can’t help the laugh that bubbles forth. “Yeah, sounds like a party,” he agrees, lightheartedly. “You look better.” David’s back straightens at the comment. “I mean, you always look-. You know. But you look, I don’t know-. Better.” Patrick can’t keep himself from stammering himself to death.

David lets out a breathless chuckle, dropping his head in an uncharacteristic show of humility. “Thank you,” he murmurs, glancing up to meet Patrick’s eyes. “I feel better.” He gives a confident nod, then clears his throat, and goes to put his bag down in the back room. “I’ve been thinking a lot about Friday, and I have a lot of ideas.”

“I’m sure you do,” Patrick chuckles, watching David as he strides across the floor. He’s struck with how familiar everything feels. He spent two days expecting everything to be different, but it isn’t. Patrick feels the same as he did before, he’s still half amused and half in awe of David. Nothing has changed, and that settles warmly in Patrick.

“I think we should do a soft opening on Friday,” David starts, without any hesitation.

“A soft opening?” Patrick repeats, his brows raising in surprise as he folds his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, you know?” David waves a hand noncommittally. “We could invite a small group of friends and family for a twenty-five percent discount to try and encourage a larger turnout.”

“Uh-huh,” Patrick considers. “You know what else would encourage a large turnout? A grand opening. Instead of a soft one.”

-

For some reason, Patrick didn’t expect David to have a birthday. Especially one David was interested in celebrating. When Patrick thinks ‘vampire’, he doesn’t really picture cone-shaped party hats and celebratory banners. But, based on David’s passive aggressive commentary about a gift receipt to a customer, Patrick gathers that, apparently, that’s untrue. It feels like a sign of destiny: the immortal vampire that Patrick wants to take out to dinner is begging to be paid attention to for his birthday. Patrick needs to play this as cool as he can, so he doesn’t horribly embarrass himself in front of someone who would very much remember it for the rest of time.

“I get the feeling it might be your birthday,” Patrick says, as he sprays down their organic vegetables.

“Yes, it is,” David sighs in agreement, and Patrick catches a small smile on his face.

“Well, happy birthday!” Patrick beams at him. David smiles back, and Patrick’s heart leaps at the sight. “How old are we-?” David gives him a withering stare, and Patrick backtracks quickly, looking at the vegetables he’s still spritzing. “Uh, any big plans?”

“Yeah, I’m planning on popping a pill, and attempting to forget the last handful of centuries,” David says. “So just a regular weeknight.”

Patrick chuckles, ducking his head. “Sounds like fun,” He jokes softly, trying every trick he has inside himself to build his nerve. “Uh, have you tried the Cafe Tropical? I’ve heard people raving about how moderately edible the food is there.” Does David even eat food? Is this a waste of time?

But, David laughs and ducks his head. “Well? Yes, I have,” he nods.

“We could go for a birthday dinner?” Patrick suggests, trying for the coolest, most casual exterior he can manage.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” David says, quickly, shaking his head in deflection.

“No, I’d like to,” Patrick promises. “My treat. Let’s say eight o’clock?” David hesitates. “Unless-. You don’t eat?” Patrick is pretty sure he’s seen David eat, or, at the very least, talk about eating.

“No, no, I definitely eat,” David jumps. “Uh, food. Like, people food. Food for people. I eat. Yes. I’ll go. Thank you.”

Patrick nods with a smile, and looks at the vegetables he’s been spritzing this whole time. “Uh, I’m gonna wipe these off now,” he says.

“Yeah, that’s a lot of spritzing,” David agrees, teasing gently.

“Those are wet now,” Patrick says and he goes to find a towel. When he returns from the back, towel in hand, he glances over David before returning to the vegetables. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but do you even know how old you are?”

David’s eyes roll as his shoulders drop. “Um,” he sighs. “The whole Gregorian calendar thing really throws off the timeline, I mean, what even are leap years? But, I have a vaguely close idea.”

Patrick fights to keep his grin off of his face. “You wait until after we’re open to tell me you don’t understand how calendars work?” He teases.

“Ugh,” David grumbles. “I understand how calendars work, but I was born before this calendar was in rotation, so, it’s a little hazy on the exact date I was born, but I know it was around this time of year. I decided it was today when important people started keeping track of stuff like that.”

Patrick nods slowly, still repressing his grin. “So, you predate the Gregorian calendar,” he notes. “My history isn’t great, but I’m pretty sure we were totally switched over to Gregorian by the sixteenth century.” David blinks at him, frowning slightly. “Am I close?”

“Not remotely,” David deadpans, going back to what he was doing behind the counter.

“Okay, well, am I in the right millennia, at least?” Patrick asks, his grin starting to spread. David’s face, somehow, falls flatter in annoyance. “No? Tenth century?”

“I just said I didn’t want to talk about how old I am,” David groans.

“You didn’t actually say that,” Patrick corrects. “And now I know you’re from earlier than the tenth century. And, I’ve gotta say, you look great for an ancient relic.”

David rolls his eyes. “Okay,” he says. “I know you’re being facetious, but that’s very nice of you to say.”

Patrick smiles at David. “Well, I mean it,” he says. “You don’t even look a little bit dusty, for being older than all the trees.”

“Okay,” David snaps, but he does look a little bit amused, and Patrick hasn’t ever been afraid of him. “Is this going to be an ongoing thing?”

“Yes, it is,” Patrick nods with a wide grin.

“Great,” David deadpans. “Can’t wait, thanks so much.”

There’s a few moments of lingering silence before Patrick brings up a related subject. “So, your-your family,” he starts, almost weary of his own curiosity. “Are they your actual family? Or, is it more like a-.”

“Please don’t say ‘coven’,” David interrupts with a shudder.

Patrick grins. “I was going to say ‘troupe’, but, uh-,” he quickly gets cut off again.

“They’re my biological family,” David jumps in. “They’re actually my parents. Alexis is really my little sister.”

“Were you born-? Like this?” Patrick stammers, and he feels stupid as he asks it, which is how he knows his answer before David can respond.

“No, I was not born a vampire,” David rolls his eyes. “We were human once, believe it or not.”

“No, no, I believe it,” Patrick shakes his head with a smile. “You seem very human, mostly. I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not.”

“I’ll take it,” David shrugs.

“So, uh, if it’s okay for me to ask,” Patrick starts, slowly. “How did you-? End up this way?”

David heaves a heavy sigh and puts down the knitted blanket he’s folding. “That is a story for another time,” he breathes. “And a lot of whiskey.”

Patrick smiles and nods. “Fair enough,” he agrees. The story of his death is probably one David doesn’t like to revisit much. Especially not if he has so many centuries of other memories to linger on.

-

For the first fifteen minutes of their date, David doesn’t realize it’s a date. That’s okay with Patrick, though. David figures it out, eventually. Patrick figures that fifteen minutes probably doesn’t mean much to a vampire who’s lived for over a thousand years.

Patrick can’t sleep after David kisses him. He stays up all night, barely catching a wink. He got to kiss David Rose, and he’s dead set on doing it again.

-

Rachel throws a wrench in things. She’s really nice to Patrick about the whole situation, lending him an ear as he rants out all of his feelings. He’s never actually allowed himself to open up about everything he feels for David, and all the opportunity does is intensify everything. Now that he’s said everything, he knows with everything in him that he doesn’t want to lose David. Rachel doesn’t make him say the words, but she knows that Patrick is in love with David.

“I won’t tell your parents about your boyfriend,” she promises as she gets into her car to drive back home. “Or that you’re dating a vampire.”

Patrick gapes at her in surprise. “H-How do you know about that?” He stammers.

She gives him a puzzled, but very amused look. “I spent an hour or so with his sister,” she teases. “And some guy with a mustache who was eating a tuna melt at the cafe said so.”

“Ray,” Patrick sighs with a shake of his head.

“He’ll forgive you, Patrick,” Rachel assures, all confidence. “I always did. It never took that long for me to come running back.”

Patrick gives her a sad smile. “Time is a little different for David,” he supplies, already defeated. “He said that days sometimes feel like hours. I could be sixty before he forgives me.”

“Would you wait that long for him?” She asks, earnestly.

Patrick doesn’t even hesitate. “Yeah.”

She smiles softly at him. “It won’t take that long,” she says, knowingly. She starts up her car and puts it in reverse, but looks up at Patrick before she moves. “Good luck with everything. I saw your store, it’s super cute.”

Patrick chuckles in surprise. “Thanks,” he nods. “That’s mostly him.”

Rachel’s smile grows a little wider. “I know,” she tells him. “Bye, Patrick.”

“Bye, Rach,” He says, taking a step back from her car to give her space.

She’s right, in the end. He should have known, she’s always right about this kind of thing. A week, Patrick can imagine, must feel like mere minutes to David, so Patrick can forgive him for holding out. Patrick was planning on making David sweat, metaphorically, but the time must matter to David, because he’s acting like he can’t take another minute away from Patrick. All it takes is a week, and a six minute, extended play song to bring them back together. Patrick will gladly take that over thirty years.

By the time David is sliding across the floor on his knees, and Patrick’s fists are in the air, he knows he’s in love with David.

-

Ray left the house fifteen minutes ago for poker night at Bob’s, leaving David and Patrick alone for a few hours. As soon as the front door slammed shut and Ray’s car was backing out of the driveway, Patrick and David were scrambling upstairs to the bedroom. The door was closed and Patrick was crowded against it. It didn’t take long from there for shirts to be stripped, and Patrick being pressed into his bed, with David’s lips trailing kisses down his jaw.

All Patrick can do is hang on and give in. It’s all he wants to do. When David’s tongue trails against his neck, Patrick keens softly, his fingers tightening into the hard muscles of David’s back. He knows David is working on a hickey, one that’s probably too high up on his neck for the standards of professionalism, but he really doesn’t care about that right now. David’s teeth graze against his neck. Just as a moan threatens to be heard, David is gone.

“I’m so sorry,” he hears David saying. Patrick opens his eyes, and David is on the far side of the room, so quickly. He’s never actually seen David use any of his vampire powers. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to.”

Patrick’s hand comes up to his neck, which is only wet with David’s spit. “Huh?” He articulates, still dazed.

“I almost just bit you, Patrick,” David sighs in explanation, obviously a little annoyed that Patrick isn’t immediately on the same page. Patrick had been pretty distracted at the moment, and he’s never been afraid of David.

“Oh,” Patrick whispers. He pulls his eyes from David for a moment, then looks back to him. After a moment, he extends a hand to David. “Come here.” David looks at the hand wearily. “David, please, come here.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” David warns.

Patrick smiles at the attempt and waves the hand extended to David. “I know,” he says. “You won’t. Please, David.” The last thing he wants is for David to be too far from him.

With a soft, hesitant huff, David slowly climbs back into bed, taking Patrick’s hand. “Maybe we should-, uh,” he stammers, “cool off? Just-.”

“It’s okay,” Patrick smiles, bringing David’s hand up to his lips so he can kiss David’s fingers softly. “I just want to be close to you. We don’t have to do anything.” As he lays back, he pulls David with him, wrapping him up in his arms. He dips his head to brush his lips against David’s. David kisses him back, just as softly, slowly relaxing into Patrick’s side.

“How are you not afraid of me?” David whispers, his nose brushing against Patrick’s.

“Should I be?” Patrick asks, because he’s never considered it. He pulls back an inch to look into David’s eyes.

“I think a little bit of fear of a vampire is probably healthy, yeah,” David mumbles, turning more into Patrick’s side, mostly to break the intensity of their eye contact.

“Maybe so,” Patrick concedes. “But, I trust you, David. I know you won’t hurt me.” He cranes his head to rest his cheek against the top of David’s head.

David’s nose runs along the soft skin of Patrick’s neck. “You like to tempt fate, don’t you?” He mumbles into the hollow of Patrick’s neck, then kisses that inch of skin.

“Or maybe you do,” Patrick nudges him. “When was the last time you went hunting?”

“Umm,” David doesn’t answer. Patrick already sort of knew, even without the lack of confirmation, that David hasn’t been hunting since before his birthday.

“David, you have to take care of yourself,” he says. “Just because I’m not afraid doesn’t mean you’re not. I know you don’t want to hurt me, and I can trust that you won’t, so long as you take care of yourself.”

“I know I just-,” David mumbles against Patrick’s skin. “I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to miss anything.”

Patrick’s brow furrows in confusion. “It’s Schitt’s Creek,” he says. “You definitely won’t miss anything. I can handle the store for a few days, you don’t have to worry. I’ll even keep a detailed list of what we sold and to whom while you’re gone.”

David huffs against Patrick’s neck, and Patrick doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s rolling his eyes. “I’m not talking about the store,” he groans.

Patrick smiles a little to himself as he wraps his arms around David a little tighter, so that he can’t wriggle away from this conversation. “Then, what are you talking about?” He asks, gently.

There’s a pause that feels long to Patrick. He feels David’s hesitation, and kisses David’s forehead softly, absently, an unconscious show of support. “I don’t want to miss anything with you,” David whispers after a while. “God, it’s so stupid.”

“You don’t want to miss me?” Patrick repeats.

“I don’t want to miss your life,” David tries to explain. “Time didn’t, like, matter to me, before. Decades passed like long days, and I barely felt actual days go by at all. But now, with you, I-. Treasure every minute. I want to be here for every single second. I know it makes me sound psycho, but-. Human life is so short. Especially compared to my life. I don’t want to waste any moment of yours.”

Patrick knows David loves him, David has said so. Before he said it, that afternoon a few months back, David had only ever said those magic words a scant handful of times in his extremely long life: to his parents, twice, and once at a Mariah Carey concert. He’s stammered it to Patrick more than three times, which makes him the majority shareholder. The many, many lovers that David has left behind over a millennia never had the privilege of being really loved by David, but Patrick does. He knows that he means more to David than anyone else, but this? This is more than Patrick could’ve ever understood until now. David once treated time the way Escobar treated money, using a million for kindling to keep his family warm. Because of Patrick, he wants to savor every single cent.

“It isn’t a waste of time for you to go hunting, David,” Patrick sighs. “I want to savor every minute of my puny, human life with you, too, and I can’t do that if you’re slowly withering into a husk.”

“That might be a tad dramatic, that probably wouldn’t happen for at least a century, but I understand what you mean,” David sighs, picking his head up to look at Patrick. “I’ll leave in the morning.”

Patrick smiles up at David, then leans up to kiss him softly. “Thank you,” he whispers against David’s lips. “Since we’re being transparent, and so that you’re completely aware, that’s why I trust you.”

In his own way, he feels the same about David. He wants to know everything about him. He wants to catalogue every story, to hear David’s unique perspective on history. He doesn’t want to miss a single detail. He doesn’t want to miss a single facial tick or ridiculous name drop. But, two days for a hunt isn’t much time at all, even for Patrick.

-

“Um, I’m pretty sure it was your meddling in the Russian monarchy that forced us to the new world,” David is arguing over dinner with Alexis. “None of this would have happened if we could’ve just stayed in Eurasia.”

This is the first dinner party Patrick’s hosted since moving into his apartment, save for his pajama-housewarming party a few weeks back. He thought it might be nice to have their friends and family over, and David quickly uninvited his parents, leaving just Alexis, Ted and Stevie in attendance. Like most dinner parties, the conversation turned left, into old, embarrassing stories between Alexis and David.

“Um, my brief, but very intense, romance with Alexander wasn’t as bad for our residency in Europe as, say, your involvement in Richard and Philip’s thing,” Alexis argues right back.

“Really?” David deadpans. “You’re going to bring up Richard and Philip?”

“Who are Richard and Philip?” Patrick prods with a barely-suppressed grin. He doesn’t get jealous of any former lovers anymore, but he loves to bring up anything from history that he possibly can to tease David.

David rolls his eyes, in a poor attempt at deflection. “Minor monarchs,” he lies, obviously. “Hardly remembered by history. I mean, who keeps track of twelfth century European regency?”

“Historians,” Stevie answers, lifting her wine glass to her lips.

“King Richard the Lionheart and King Philip the Second,” Alexis supplies, salaciously.

“Why does that sound familiar?” Ted mumbles to himself, his eyes narrowing as he thinks.

“Wh- of England?” Patrick barks in surprise.

“And France,” Alexis supplies, very proud of herself.

“They were messy long before I got involved with either of them,” David defends himself. “Though, it was very fun to stir the pot.”

“Wait, King Richard was the good king in Robin Hood!” Ted remembers, perking up in his seat.

“Two kings?” Patrick repeats, amusement high. “At the same time?”

David rolls his eyes. “Please, I could actually never come between them,” he huffs. “Not even if I wanted to. And, believe me, I didn’t want to. God, I had to watch them literally eat off of the same plate for years. Years!”

“They were together?” Ted realizes what David is talking about.

Everyone turns to glance at Ted with blank eyes. “Try and keep up, bud,” Stevie smirks.

“Wow,” Ted gasps. “That’s cool. Who else have you hooked up with, David?”

“I did not hook up with Richard!” David whines. “Or Philip. Thanks so much.”

“They ate off of the same plate?” Patrick repeats. He knew there were a lot of queer people in history who had their queerness erased over time, but such intimacy two kings, one of England and one of France, is a deep surprise.

“It was super weird,” David groans, his eyes squeezing shut at the memory repressed.

“Did they feed each other?” Stevie prompts, her chin resting on her fist in a clear show of her interest.

“Sometimes?” David squeaks.

“Should we be doing that?” Patrick smirks, already knowing the answer before the words pass between his lips.

“Absolutely not!”

“Please, don’t start doing that,” Stevie begs at the same time.

“My point is that your messiness removed us from Europe way before mine did,” Alexis continues, pointing her fork at her brother.

“But we came back,” David defends himself. “And it’s not like you don’t have your fair share of messiness.”

“Maybe so, but you are easily the messiest person in history,” Alexis says, very confidently.

“Me?” David demands. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Alexis plays dumb, but everyone at this table has heard enough hostage situations from her for this to be wildly ineffective.

“Um, Carthage?” David reminds her.

Alexis glares at David with a loud groan. “Um, Sophocles?” She fires back in the same tone.

“Um, Temujin?” David retaliates, his brows raising expectantly.

“How was I supposed to know what he’d do with the Mongol army?” Alexis tries to defend herself.

“By paying attention to the words he said? With his own mouth?” David cocks his head to the side.

“People like to focus on all the genocide, but they forget that he’s the reason the Silk Road was so successful,” Alexis defends, her cadence undermining her intelligence.

“Who is Temujin?” Ted leans into Alexis’ side and murmurs the question to her, but everyone can plainly hear it, even without special vampire hearing.

“Genghis Kahn,” David and Stevie say at the same time.

“Genghis Kahn?” Patrick repeats, gaping at Alexis. He knew she had powerful friends once, but this really takes the cake. “You had the ear of Genghis Kahn?”

“Um, no, I had the ear of Temujin, it was all pre-reign,” Alexis rolls her eyes with a wave of her hand, like it’s not a big deal that she spent her time with the most famous warlord in history.

“Oh, so, you, the bloodthirsty vampire, had Genghis Kahn’s attention before he went on a crusade to horrifically slaughter most of Asia?” Patrick asks.

Alexis rolls her eyes in frustration. “Technically,” she agrees.

“Yeah, that sounds way messier than anything else,” Patrick decides. David smiles and rubs at Patrick’s shoulder blade, silently thanking him for support.

“Mm, mkay, but what about that Archduke thing in Sarajevo?” Alexis keeps arguing, unwilling to lose this battle.

“That had nothing to do with me!” David jumps, immediately, pointing across the table at Alexis. “Please, like I’d be caught dead in Bosnia again. No, that definitely has Mom written all over it.”

“Are you talking about the assassination of Frans Ferdinand?” Stevie asks, narrowing her eyes at Alexis in confusion.

“Ew, was his name Frans?” Alexis asks, wrinkling her nose.

“Yeah, his name was Frans,” Patrick sighs, looking at David. “You never told me your mom indirectly started the First World War.”

David grimaces in apology. “There’s a lot that my parents indirectly started,” he sighs. “I mean, it would probably be faster to say what they’re not indirectly involved with.”

“Nazis,” Alexis supplies, and David points at her in agreement. “No involvement with any Nazis, no matter how charming, blond, intelligent and/or muscular they were.”

“Clearly, Alexis had no problem following that rule,” David snarks.

“Oh my god, David!” Alexis pouts.

“Okay, no more Nazi talk at the dinner table!” Patrick announces with a smile, ready to change the subject, at least slightly. He’d much rather listen to David and Alexis tease each other about their messiest hookups than talk about Nazis they did or didn’t sleep with.

Without missing a beat, Stevie steps in with the switch. “I want to hear about Carthage,” she announces. “Anyone else want more wine?”

-

When Patrick slowly stirs awake, much earlier than his alarm was set to go off, he sees that David is awake, too. David is staring at the four gold rings Patrick slid onto his fingers just a few short days ago. Normally, Patrick would be pleased to catch his new fiancé gazing, but, even mostly asleep, Patrick can catch glimpses of doubt on David’s face.

“What’s wrong?” He croaks, and David jumps in surprise, having not heard Patrick wake up.

“Nothing,” David whispers, his lips quirking up in a soft smile. “Go back to sleep, honey.”

The part of him that wants to listen to the command isn’t loud or large enough to take over. Instead, Patrick starts to sit up, and roll closer to David. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong,” he groans, trying to shake himself more awake.

There’s a long pause. Silence echoes in their bedroom as David decides on what he wants to say. “You want to spend the rest of your life with me,” he whispers, eventually.

“Yeah,” Patrick agrees, easily. “I thought I’d made that one pretty clear.”

David looks at Patrick, very seriously. “I want to spend my life with you, too,” he mumbles.

It takes a moment for Patrick to completely understand David’s meaning. “Oh,” he gasps, softly, his eyes falling down to the bedspread, understanding David’s meaning through his half-asleep mind. This is going to be a serious conversation, he should probably be more awake for this.

“I told you to go back to sleep,” David defends himself weakly.

“Hey, stop,” Patrick says, pulling himself upright so he can look at David. “Don’t think that you’re a bad person for wanting what I promised you.”

David freezes, staring at Patrick as he tries to understand. His head turns a little more as his brow furrows. “What you promised me,” he repeats, his voice very even.

“David, when I said I wanted to spend my life with you, it’s not like I expected us to grow old together,” Patrick tries to explain. “I don’t imagine me, at ninety, on my deathbed, surrounded by kids, and grandkids, and you, looking the same as you did the day that we met. I don’t want you to take care of me when I’m too old and feeble to tie my own shoes. I don’t want you to agonize over what style of urn to put me in, so you can carry me with you. I just want to be with you. Asking you to marry me wasn’t some whim, I actually thought about this.”

“You have no idea what you’re asking,” David interjects.

“Forever,” Patrick says, quickly, because he knows exactly what he’s asking for. “With the love of my life. Logistically, no, I have no idea what it’s like to be a vampire, but I know I want this. So long as I’m with you.” David lets out a breath. Patrick smiles and reaches for David’s hand. “Will you tell me about it?”

David furrows his brows and shakes his head in confusion. “About what?” He asks.

“What I can expect,” Patrick shrugs. “What turning is like. What the thirst is like. What the powers are like. All of it. I want to know what I’ve gotten myself into.”

David’s mouth twists to one side in uncertainty. “What if you don’t like what I have to tell you?” He worries.

Patrick brings David’s hands to his lips and kisses his fingers a few times, softly. “I’m not afraid,” he asserts. “I’ve been afraid my whole life, but not of you. Not of this. If forever is manning our little store until we remember when all of the townspeople’s grandparents were born, or stirring the pot in the White House for a few terms, or leaving behind a trail of mysterious murders in Italy, then I’m ready. Whatever comes, I’m not afraid, David.”

David takes in a deep breath, but settles back into bed. When Patrick tries to settle, too, David pulls him closer. Patrick is happily tugged, wrapping his arm over David’s torsoand tucking his face into David’s neck.

“Turning takes a few days,” David whispers his explanation. “I’ll have to give you my blood before I drain you. We’ll have to go to ground for at least twenty four hours, maybe longer. I guess that depends on your attachment to the mortal coil, but it’t not exactly a tested science.”

“Go to ground?” Patrick mumbles.

“Uh, be buried,” David explains. “Together. Just-. Us and the dirt.” He huffs out a sigh, a slight grimace on his face.

“Wow, you sound excited about that,” Patrick teases him gently, squirming when David pinches his side. “Why do we have to go to ground?”

“I don’t know, something about- bonding us together with the earth?” David sighs. “Respect for the dead? Protection from the sun while you’re turning? I really don’t know. I just know you need to be buried with your sire. I’ve got a special robe for it. I’m not getting my normal clothes all dirt-caked.”

“You’ve turned other people?” Patrick asks. It’s never come up, but he knows both Johnny and Alexis have turned people.

“A few,” he admits. “Not many. Close friends, or poets I liked, usually. Most of my progenies are long gone, now. The artsy ones can’t really handle the concept of ‘forever’. I know one is sleeping for an indefinite amount of time, but it’s been about five hundred years, so I’m sure she’s not waking-. Maybe ever? I’ll be honest with you, there aren’t a lot of vampires sired to me or my family. We don’t want-. It’s hard to-.”

“You think it’s a burden,” Patrick says, knowingly.

“I never said that,” David stiffens.

“You didn’t have to,” Patrick chuckles, ducking his head to kiss David’s chest. “You’re an artsy type, Mister Creative Director. I know you don’t prefer being a vampire to being a human.”

David laughs, but it’s humorless. “I don’t even remember what it’s like to be human,” he admits, quietly. “It’s like asking what it was like to be in your mother’s womb: it must’ve happened, but I don’t know what it was like. It was so long ago. I can’t tell you what it’s like to be a vampire, or what the thirst is like, because I don’t know what to compare it to. It’s all I know anymore.”

“What do you remember?” Patrick whispers into David’s shirt. “About when you turned?”

David takes a pause, recalling everything he’d lost track of over a thousand years ago. “I remember-. Everything feeling intense,” he recollects. “I was angry. And afraid. And so thirsty. And once my thirst wasn’t taking over my every thought and feeling, I was confused. I had these instincts I didn’t understand. I killed someone within the first twenty minutes out of the ground, and it sent me into a minor rampage. The first of many. When that was all over, my own guilt nearly ate me alive. Everything you’ve ever felt, it’s nothing. Nothing, compared to how you’ll feel after you turn.”

Patrick can’t fathom it. His feelings for David double in intensity with every passing day. It’s all-consuming. Genuinely, Patrick has no idea what’s in store, if his feelings will only deepen. “So, you’re saying I’ll be full-blown obsessed with you,” Patrick tries to make light of everything.

David scoffs. “Yeah, you’ll finally get it,” he mumbles, brushing a hand over Patrick’s hair, gently.

“Get what?” Patrick asks. He picks his head up to look at David.

“What you mean to me,” David explains, quietly. He meets Patrick’s eyes, and all of his wild feelings for his favorite human are illuminated in the faint, morning light. “How creepy obsessed with you I am. I mean, if anything ever happened to you, I don’t know what I’d do. Probably have a complete meltdown. Get some new urban legends under the belt. I don’t want to lose you, but I don’t want to force this on you.”

“You’re not forcing me,” Patrick promises. “You asked me. Sort of. And if you hadn’t, I would have. Maybe I don’t want to turn tomorrow, or next month, or next year, but this is what I want. I want to be your husband, for the rest of our lives.”

David sharply inhales, blinking rapidly to move his gaze anywhere else. “For a long time, It wasn’t possible for me to have a husband,” he whispers. That was a thought Patrick hadn’t considered before. David spent most of his extremely long life never knowing that someone like Patrick could be an option for him. “I mean, or a wife, either. I didn’t think I would ever have anyone. But I have you.”

Patrick smiles at David. “You have me,” he promises. “I never want you to be alone. I always want to be here for you.”

David sighs, and seems to relax. “Okay,” he breathes. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be ready.”

Patrick’s smile grows as he gazed down upon his fiancé. “Thank you, David,” he mumbles, leaning down to kiss him softly. “I just have one more question.”

“Mhm,” David murmurs against Patrick’s lips, kissing him back, soft and slow. “What’s that?”

Admittedly, Patrick looses himself a little bit in their kiss. David’s expert lips are adept at distracting Patrick from many tasks. It takes a minute, but Patrick gets himself back on track. “Can you control people’s minds?” He asks against David’s lips.

David stiffens and stares at Patrick, who only laughs at him. “Go back to sleep, honey,” David complains, but Patrick can see the beginnings of a grin.

“I noticed that wasn’t a ‘no’,” Patrick keeps teasing.

David rolls his eyes. “If I had mind control powers, we’d open much later in the day,” he huffs.

Patrick grins at David. “Right, of course,” he chuckles. “So, no hypnosis.”

David’s eyes widen comically as he gazed into Patrick’s eyes. “You’re getting very sleepy,” he teases right back.

“Definitely no hypnosis,” Patrick confirms, and David pinches his side again. Patrick leans down and laughs as he kisses David.

-

Almost seven years after they got married, Patrick looks around at the store, at the life he and David built together. His eyes look around at the products, lined neatly on their perfect shelves, at the artwork on their walls, at the hardwood floor that’s already starting to creak under the weight of their customers. He smiles as he watches David flip the sign on their door so the word ‘closed’ is facing the outside world.

“What?” David asks, his own smile growing on his face when he catches his husband’s staring.

Patrick walks around the counter to meet David, standing in the same spot where David first said ‘I love you’. His hands find David’s waist, and David’s arms wind around Patrick’s shoulders. “I’m ready,” he knows, with a nod.

David doesn’t need a millisecond to know what Patrick means. He doesn’t ask if Patrick is sure. He doesn’t wonder if Patrick needs more time. He leans in and kisses Patrick, slow and sure. Patrick’s arms wrap around David’s middle, pressing them closely. He lets himself fall into David’s familiar kiss, already looking forward to this feeling forever.

“Why now?” David asks, softly. There’s no judgement, just curiosity. They haven’t discussed Patrick’s turning in years, leaving it at an understood eventuality.

To be perfectly honest, Patrick’s not sure why now. Maybe it’s a little bit about how he looks, how he knows he only has a few years left until he looks significantly older than David. Maybe it’s because the simplicity of their happiness together crashes into him in waves, and he wants forever to hold onto. He knows that he’ll never be completely prepared, no matter how many weird nuggets of wisdom he gets from his in-laws. He just knows he’s ready.

“My knee has been bugging me for about a week now,” Patrick explains, teasing David gently. “I heard becoming a vampire might help with that.”

David rolls his eyes and gently pushes himself away from Patrick in exasperation. Patrick laughs and pulls him closer, because he never wants to be apart from David. “Yeah, you know what?” David snarks. “You might be right. I mean, I’ve never felt the chronic pain that comes with aging? Because I’m forever young. At this point, for you, that might be a stretch.”

Patrick snorts at him. “No one is ever going to believe that I’m older than you,” he teases. Maybe in a hundred years, when no one alive can remember the truth, or when they, eventually, go somewhere no one knows them, but that won’t be any time soon. “You give off a very ancient-wisdom kind of vibe when you give bad advice.”

“Um, I’m a very young thirty,” David argues, still grinning at Patrick.

“Um, you’re actually a twelve-hundred year old ‘thirty’,” Patrick snarks right back. “So, would we call that ‘young’? Or would we call it something else?”

“Okay!” David interrupts, attempting to glare, but all he shows is his amusement. “Snarky. I can’t believe I have to put up with you forever.” Halfway through the sentence, his tone changes into something a little more soft and genuine. He really can’t believe he gets to be teased by his loving husband forever.

“Believe it, baby,” Patrick grins, leaning in to brush his lips against David’s. “I’m very glad we put that part in our vows.” He kisses David again, and then once more. He’s sure he’ll never get enough of David’s lips.

David huffs, but presses his forehead against Patrick’s. “Please,” he scoffs, though he sounds impossibly fond through his words, “as if I’d even consider something stupid like death parting us.”

After a few more soft kisses, they finish closing up the store. David puts a sign on the door that says they’ll be closed for a few days before he snags Patrick’s car keys. He drives them both home, so they can change into their special burial clothes and make sure all of their amenities are off. Patrick debates a shower, but he figures he’s about to be in the ground for a few days, and showering now might be a waste.

David pulls an ancient looking trunk from their basement. Patrick hasn’t seen inside it, but he knows it contains various clothing items David has collected over the centuries and deemed worthy to keep. Near the bottom of the trunk are the clothes David keeps specifically for the event of having to be buried. He ducks into the bathroom, and Patrick takes a moment to change his clothes. He pulls on an old sweater over his tee-shirt, a dark blue one he knows David likes. He pairs it with his most comfortable, threadbare sweatpants from college that David has been begging him to throw away.

Eventually, David emerges from the bathroom in a tightly fitting, long sleeved, deep brown tunic that stops at his knee, and a pair of pants in the same color. The neckline of the tunic plunges more than most of David’s clothing does, exposing a tuft of his chest hair. Patrick whistles lowly at the sight of him.

“When is this from?” He asks, waving an appreciative hand over David’s form. David doesn’t pull out a lot of historical clothing, and Patrick definitely isn’t an expert, but this seems older than most things David has shown him.

David looks down at himself. He almost looks like he wants to bashfully deflect, waving Patrick off with a casual ‘The Old Thing?’ Instead, he bites his lip in uncertainty. “This is what I was wearing when I was turned,” he explains, softly.

Patrick smiles, barely, his eyes wandering over his husband. “I can see why,” he compliments. “You’re a sight I’d want to keep forever.”

David rolls his eyes, half deflection and half exasperation. “You’re so corny,” he accuses Patrick.

“You love it,” Patrick says, knowingly, walking across their bedroom to wrap his arms around David’s middle, a wide smile on his face. His heart flutters in his chest in excitement.

“So, do you want to be here?” David asks, knowing that they’re both ready for this. “I’m pretty sure we have enough space in the back yard if you want to be here. Or- we can go somewhere else? Um, I think my family is already digging behind the motel, so my dad can keep an eye on us, or whatever.”

“It sounds like you have a few different plans,” Patrick realizes, smiling slightly.

David rolls his eyes at the comment. “Yeah, I guess you’re rubbing off on me, and not just in the fun way,” He snarks, nudging Patrick gently. “My point is, if you want to do this here, I can tell my parents to fuck off. Or we can start here and finish there. Or I can take you there when we’re done here?”

“What, like, carry me on your back?” Patrick teases.

“Ew, no,” David shudders. “We did that once. One time was more than enough for me. I am not, and will never be, the Edward to your Bella, thanks so much. Ugh.”

“I don’t know how comfortable I am with your parents watching me turn?” Patrick says. “That seems like it might be, uh. Kind of intimate. But I don’t mind going to ground behind the motel.”

David raises his brows in amusement. “So, you’re more comfortable with them seeing your lifeless body?” He asks, his head tilting to one side.

“Well, I know how adverse you are to manual labor,” Patrick teases. “And if there’s already a hole being dug, we might as well use it.”

David fights off his grin, but loses. “We can start here,” David decides with a nod. “I’ll take you to the motel when we’re done here. Not-! On my back! In the car, like a normal person.”

“Right,” Patrick snorts. “A normal person, with their husband’s half-dead, transitioning body in the back seat.”

“I was going to put you in the passenger’s seat,” David corrects.

Patrick grins. “You were going to ‘Weekend at Bernie’s’ me?” He teases. “Were you going to put some sunglasses on me, too?”

“I could put you in the trunk,” David offers, conversationally. He pulls back, but grasps Patrick’s hands to pull him along. “Um, do you want a cup? Or-?”

Patrick hesitates. Is it weirder to drink David’s blood out of a cup? He figures he should probably get used to drinking people’s blood straight from the source. He shakes his head and clears his throat. “No,” he says, decisively. “No cup.”

“Okay,” David nods in agreement, leading them out of the bedroom, down the stairs and to their little living room. Patrick looks around at their furniture, their decorations, their home, and he wonders if it’ll be different the next time he sees it. It’ll be the exact same, Patrick will be the one that’s different.

David sits him down on the couch, then carefully sits beside him. Patrick can’t help but wonder exactly how careful David is with him, all the time. He can’t wait for that segment to be over, for when David doesn’t have to worry about accidentally hurting Patrick anymore.

David brings his wrist up to his mouth and bites down on the soft part. His nearly impenetrable skin breaks under the force. A half second later, David’s wrist is in front of Patrick’s face, David’s other hand caressing the back of Patrick’s head.

“Drink, honey,” David instructs gently. Patrick stares uneasily at the wound on David’s wrist, slowly getting closer to his mouth. “You’ll get used to it.”

With David’s coaxing, Patrick’s lips cover the wound, already starting to heal up. The taste of David floods Patrick’s mouth. It’s similar to the rust flavor of regular blood, not that Patrick has a lot of experience in that field, but deeper and sweeter, and thicker than he expected. He can feel David’s fingers soothing over his hair, and it comforts Patrick more than he could’ve fathomed.

By the time David is taking his wrist back, his bite has almost completely closed back up. Patrick’s never seen David’s vampire healing, he’s never had to. It’s strange, to see David wounded in a physical capacity for the first time.

“You did so good,” David compliments him with a smile, wiping the corner of Patrick’s mouth with his thumb. His hand brushes against Patrick’s neck, his dark eyes falling to Patrick’s pulse point. “Are you sure? This is your last chance to back out.” His eyes meet Patrick’s, searching for any uncertainty.

There’s none to be found in Patrick’s eyes. He’s sure. He’s ready. He wants this more than he’s ever wanted anything. “Are you going to get my blood on the couch?” Patrick asks, trying his hardest to repress his shit-eating grin.

David huffs in disbelief. “Please,” he scoffs.“Like I’d ruin our couch with your blood. I haven’t spilled a drop in at least six hundred years. Unintentionally, anyway. I’ll take very good care of you, and our couch.”

Patrick beams at David, softening at his words. “You always do,” he agrees. His eyes dart down to David’s lips, and he can’t stop himself from leaning in and kissing them. Any lingering nervousness, in the facing of forever, dies in David’s kiss, soothing little scraps of Patrick no one else could ever understand.

When David pulls back, it’s barely an inch. His lips ghost over Patrick’s jaw, and caress the length of Patrick’s neck. They plant a gentle, loving kiss to the stretch of skin just above the juncture between neck and shoulder. David’s teeth graze gently, one last silent inquiry, making sure that Patrick hasn’t changed his mind in the last second.

Patrick nods.


End file.
